[250] I Wanna Sex You Up Baby

I’m amazed at what people will tell me they do or don’t understand when I explain something. Well, they never actually grant me their understanding; that seems to be reserved for after they’ve broken up or when they’re alone at the end of the night wondering how I can just be so backward and weird. Without much surprise, I’ve found sex to be one of the most hot button and contentious issues, and I’m positively dumbfounded as to why.

First of all, I’m a big believer in relationships. I don’t think that word gets to be hijacked by monogamy. It is logically sound to say I have a relationship with each and every one of my friends. For a relationship to matter for me, it involves two individuals. They need to be people, with perspectives and reasoning skills and personal feelings about things. No shit 101. You’re not exactly like anyone else, your history is your own, your thoughts and decisions are yours to make. I try to respect that, foster that, and be an example of that.

Sex is a game. Sex is serious. Sex is potentially dangerous. Sex can be emotional or not. It can come easy or be one of the biggest issues in someone’s life. Sex is fun, fairly simple, and enjoyed by practically everything that’s ever lived. I don’t know why some people have a hard time believing that it can be all of these things or that I somehow don’t grasp all the things it can mean.

When I talk about sex, it’s usually in jest because it tends to err on the positive side of things I think about. It isn’t to belittle it or demean the different circumstances in which people are having it. In the same vein, I’m usually met with people who say “I just don’t understand you!” or “I don’t agree” or “How can you do this or that, doesn’t it mean all these things I’ve just put into your mouth?!” I secretly hope someone ever tells that last one word for word.

Classically, I hear one of two things; sex is important because it denotes someone you love or that fact of your love or, it’s just “different” or “special” than anything else you do. It’s used as a separating device apparently.

Here’s where I take issue. Sex fundamentally is a reward system developed in order for things to propagate. Any moral or emotional flavor that your sex life has is injected by you. If you want it to be dramatic, you can make either/or statements about its significance. You can equate it with love. You attach the feelings you get from it to the flurry of memories and interactions you’ve had with the person you’re having sex with. I don’t regard this as a bad thing, necessarily. What bugs me is when the opposite of this process is regarded as “bad” “naïve” “reckless” “empty” and assumed about people who don’t describe their sex lives in romance novel terms.

I’m one of those people. I think sex can be important, I understand it’s like a pinnacle for some peoples’ relationships. I know how it’s been used to fuck over and manipulate a number of my friends. Yet, I somehow persist in my venture to be turned on and sexed out. I don’t play with people’s emotions. I don’t lie about where I’m coming from. I don’t base my relationships or regard them in the amount of sex I’m having or not with someone. I don’t really understand how anyone could.

“But Nick, you’re an emotionally crippled and cynical bastard, how could you possibly have soul enough to truly empathize with the plight of my feelings for the one I love and choose to make my only sex partner?” This frankly is horrendously condescending and mean. When I’m mean to someone I identify something they care about and try to reduce it to something that I actively try to make them feel bad over. I genuinely care about my relationships and when depicted as the kind of person above, it’s more than a bit annoying.

Your feelings exist in the vault that is your mind and body, but that doesn’t mean feeling is somehow reserved for when you are experiencing it the most. I would love the chance to defend my friendships or relationships or fuck buddies or whatever the fuck else that I’ve worked on creating in my life. It’s because I base those things on principles and ideas that come before sex; honesty, happiness, comfort, intellectual stimulation, fun, trust. You know, things that healthy relationships and friendships are based on. Whether sex comes into the equation or not, if you don’t have those things, you’re doing it wrong.

“But Nick, sex is still ‘special’ and ‘different’ with the person you love.” Then explain to me how! I get that you get a rush or are more emotionally involved with that person at that time, but explain to me how there is this edict about life that “special and different” make any sense beyond your personal attachment. When I hear this it’s like someone telling me that animal rights are more important than gun control. When asked why they think this, they simply respond, “Animals are special!” “I think about them differently!”

I’d rather not have sex with someone who thinks it can only be about getting off or being a one night stand. When asked the point of one night stands, if your answer is anything more than “to get off,” you’re doing it wrong. And if you don’t understand getting off, what is this ever growing queer (not gay) nature of the loving sex you’re allegedly having? If you can’t have fun with it, regard it as spending time with someone you’re attracted to, or respect it as something you don’t engage in with “just anyone at any time” then I don’t want you having sex with me. That’s fucking weird. Try masturbating to a paper towel roll, randomly, not even when you’re horny where it might work. That’s basically how I feel about trying to engage in sex for the sake of sex alone.

People are attractive for any number of reasons, not all of which solely reside in them. If you can call two people hot or funny or whatever then you have to understand what I mean. For the laundry list of cool things I can say about me, I know other people are funny, cute, relatively not fat, and potentially intellectually stimulating. This doesn’t invalidate or diminish who I am or how we relate to each other. I can think of nothing worse than thinking of our friendship sacrificed because there wasn’t room for you to figure out why you find two people cool or attractive. Jealousy in a scenario like this serves a purpose. It means you give a damn! It doesn’t mean you hate or are willing to hurt someone, it just means you recognize what you have matters. It should help you protect it and prompt you to raise any concerns you might have, not send you spiraling out of control.

I have been, can be, and will probably go on having emotions. They’ve been, could be, and probably will continue to jump in a fairly familiar realm that yours can dwell in as well. I don’t enslave myself to them, which doesn’t make me cold, it makes me an adult. I don’t make excuses for them, and I don’t like to pretend that my experience with them hasn’t given me at least a modicum of helpful or useful advice when it comes to sex or relationships. Yes, some shit you have to go through by yourself, some people will remain ever interred by their first or parent’s notion of sex, and some people will continue to use it in all sorts of odd or manipulative ways, but stop pretending the conversation is between two extremes. And stop pretending you don’t understand me or my position when I so clearly lay it out like I laid your mom, who “loved” it.  

[251] Philosipheyes

What matters?

Your perspective? Your will? Your obligations? Your sense of morality? Your struggle? Look at me, starting so selfishly; my bias might be showing a bit. Is it really my bias, or is it just symptomatic of subjective reality?

“If one tethers one's heart severely and imprisons it, one can give one's spirit many liberties.”

-Nietzsche

I think I imprison my heart with ideas of objectivity. I wait and see, watch for cause and effect, then play accordingly. My “spirit” therefore is free to simply do whatever it takes for me to draw a desired effect. But does that matter?

I’ll never know explicitly what someone else is thinking. Even when I exhaust my words people don’t even believe they know what I’m thinking. I can’t account for the probability of something going wrong, and I’ll always be using incomplete information when I make an assessment. To what degree, in what realm, to whom does it concern where and why I do things? I think even pushing yourself to hint at asking those kinds of questions is perhaps a fundamental role people’s gods fill.

And why not? Does it necessarily feel good to think that you’re unstable? Is hovering doubt a comforting a feeling let alone message to espouse? Perhaps not. Should you become arrested by your ideas then? Be unable to even qualify the word unstable or respect the notion of the ever small “you” amidst the noise? I chalk it up to intellectual stimulation. When you go to the top of a building and look over unable to help yourself from thinking what it would feel like, look like, or do to other people if you were to jump. Do you really want to jump? Not if you’re reading this.

And I think that’s what I do. I let my mind go to scary uncomfortable and downright despicable places simply because I can, or it does, or I can’t pretend to know of a reason or method to stop it. Having not gone insane, majorly snapped or hurt anyone, nor with any plans to do so, I just keep on thinking like a so-self-described sociopath or psychopath and carry on business as usual.

But why? What keeps me able to focus or respect, to even a marginal degree, others’ feelings and my position in society? Why do I recognize and try to exploit and grow opportunity? What capacity for positive feelings do I have that overwhelms a general proclivity to destroy or play with to the point of absurdity? Why are my rules, my chains, or my tethering ideas the ones that remain at the top? Maybe because they aren’t mine? Another argument against free will?

If it all boils down to feeling, then why bother with intellectual exercises? If you feel a certain way and you want to feel that way, the only “logic” you care about is the one describing your capacity to do so. Not very helpful for the rest of us, but someone will pat you on the head and send you on your way because they have feelings too and know just how rough it can be. Yay…If it all boils down to logic, you shoot yourself in the foot. You don’t know anything, technically, and what you do know undermines your very being well before said being begins to use its logic. In comes the all-important context.

Maybe I just need to overcomplicate things in order to make them simple. I’m opening a business, right? I have these weird dreams and prospects. Does it matter if I die rich? If I became a notable humanitarian would the lives I influence amount to something “meaningful?” Be it 2 or 200 years after I’m gone, if some problem I rallied against in life is still rampant, how much respect am I supposed to give to my influence or ideals? For evil to prevail all it takes is that good men do nothing. But I don’t believe in evil! I believe there are things that destroy and hinder goals. Goals I have that can be described as fostering well-being or happiness in this species. But, my goals are, technically, arbitrary. They’re assumed in light of my context. Whether I want to help the poor or cure cancer, it’s all stemming from some primal urge to not feel bad. I can’t destroy my mirror neurons, nor can I forget what it’s like to fear or be angry at some injustice, so I’m hijacked to keep an eye out for “evil” as it manifests.

What happens when I put myself in a context that no longer fears or is angered by what is “supposed” to trigger me? What kind of people are the ones that don’t fear death? Martyrs, who can then do things like crash planes into buildings because “logically” it gets them and their extended family into heaven. What if you can no longer get angry at people for their proclivity to injustice; your empathy literally running out? Are you now lazy, uncaring, or maybe just exhausted and in need of a new cause?

We’re clay. We get molded by our experiences and the environment we’re subjected to. Maybe my mind goes to “dark” places because I know it is other people with minds exactly like mine that can do the things I haven’t been moved to. Maybe in order for things to matter they need to be shaped by your understanding of the symbiotic relationship between your thinking and feeling. Maybe I’m just stream of conscious-ing myself away from the point, which is to keeping putting things in the context of “what matters.”

I can have all the positive hopes and dreams for the world that have ever existed, and be working to enable them every day, and to the people who don’t understand, agree, or care that doesn’t matter. If I’m working for them, why am I qualifying it as something that matters? Because I’m so moral? Because I was put in such a gratifying position until it spilled over into not-so-heavily-masked compassion for other people? But I don’t believe in morals! I believe in means. So I just need to expand my context. I need to identify more squares on the game board. I’m just playing a game where those kinds of people exist and those kinds of problems can perhaps not be problems or not infect you and your style in the way they’re designed to. But again, that perspective, primarily, if not only, matters subjectively.

I think my biggest anchor resides in ridicule. For while these seemingly random and stream of consciousness blogs help me sleep at night, it’s way more fun to look back and go “you asshole, shut up and watch tv.” It just feels right to genuinely be interested in helping a problem, have it go on too long and switch gears, make fun of it and myself for my role in it, and then move onto the next one. I can only take myself seriously to the extent that what I say or do has perceivable consequences. The harder they are to see, the bigger I want to act. Maybe this is why I find it so hard to take others’ problems as seriously as they appear to be taking them. I just see someone who’s usually got good friends, good eats, and a place to live, and they remain locked in a mental battle. I see myself as someone who, if not immediately resolves an issue, finds peace with it through writing or discussion, while they make an issue the center of their life.

So what matters? My ability to make a big show and validate the idea that things happen and happen for reasons if that reason is only me and my intentions? A person’s center-of-their-universe problem, and their endless digressions analyzing every conceivable angle of it? At this point, it just seems like the very act of anchoring your mind in something is all that really matters. Quell the crazy by rooting it in less crazy. Or over-intellectualize and obfuscate the burden of denoting and defining crazy. Either way, you’re certainly doing as you think and feel while abstaining from what you “agree to disagree” (grrrr) about. It’s kept you safe enough so far.

[249] Overflow

I don’t want to live believing in things that aren’t there. I have too many ideas and dreams to count for my life and how I want to live it to leave any room for the mounts of shit that gum up the works. If we have a bullshit friendship, I’m either going to end it or marginalize it to the point of forgetting it until someone brings up your name. If there is no hope for my psyche and the business world to coexist, I will drive myself insane making sure that’s in fact the case.

I have a scarily dark view of this world. I use the word scary because it sometimes genuinely scares me the things I can argue, fairly persuasively, in favor of. I say dark because I sincerely feel like a cloud surrounds my head at times and gears all thoughts into a swirling chaos of irrelevance, uncertainty, and hopelessness. While I’m hardly dominated by these modes of thinking, they are never really hidden, ignored, or non-compelling.

I’ve said in the past that I don’t want to live in spite. I want instead to espouse ideals more than simply be the black to the white. Maybe I’m characterizing it wrong. Maybe my spite is the necessary “balance” to the shit I’m willing to take. Maybe my hatred isn’t me manifesting some personal evil or forgone conclusion about how my finally insane brain will need to express itself in order to prove a point or send a message. Maybe the “struggle,” as I’ve so characterized it, is the only way for things to ever really be.

For as much as I like to think I know, sometimes I don’t even give myself enough credit. I know people, who you pay money for a service, should do that job well and respect your time. I know they should answer their phones. I know you should find out the truth of your employees actions before you try to sweep their responsibility under the rug. I know that whenever you try to make your burden someone else’s problem, you disrespect their very life. Somehow we’ve enabled people to feeling entitled to continually pass on the responsibility.

I can’t take thinking I’m to blame for everyone’s fuck ups anymore. It’s not my fault the electrician put the electric box next to the plumbing system that may one day decided to clog and flood after explicitly telling me that someone coming to inspect the kiosk would “freak out” if they saw that. It’s not my fault for trying to like and trust in someone who with the flip of a switch can turn passive aggressive and adopt an “oh well” attitude. I do not need to take on the responsibility of feeling shitty when I’ve been trying to pursue a path that enables and celebrates instead of exploits while only having the pathetic tools (read people and policy) the world at large has given me to play with. My response to self-loathing indulgent bullshit is to try and calmly and deliberately dictate where and how things can change and then do everything in my power to show what the fuck that change looks like.

Fuck you for perpetuating a world that facilitates me getting like this. Fuck me for letting it in if even for a few hours. I’m not going to stop hating fucking idiots. I’m not going to stop railing against shitty work, shitty leaders, and shitty ideas. I know so goddamn much that it includes the source of what would drive me insane or psychopathic as well as what will always talk me down. You don’t even know how to respect yourself enough to give a damn. You don’t create, you don’t contribute, and you better fucking trust that one day I’ll make it so you won’t matter, and at the very least it won’t be at the exhaustion of my thoughts.

[248] Empty

Let’s see how I can jumble all of my thoughts tonight.

I don’t always mean to come off as dismissive. I’ve adopted a particular nature that seeks the taboo, the novel, the perverse, the “morally ambiguous” at times. I feel I am a direct result of reacting to my environment in a way that doesn’t put ridiculous amounts of stress upon me, and direct statements or rules about how and why I’m going to behave certain ways. Many times these rules are established after perhaps years of a mental battle or struggle that finally “resolved” into an aspect of my disposition.

I have the conflict of wanting to be understood without making myself easy to understand. I don’t think that everything can simply be explained, despite how brilliantly it is laid out, and another person will go “okay” and forever their life is changed. At the same time, I hate to think, and am frequently annoyed by, the notion that so much time and pain need to be spent in order for some things to be figured out.

It’s not so much that I think I have any one person so well figured out. I would never presume to be explicitly in someone’s head. I do like to show how there are ways of dealing with things that have proven to help others can help you as well. More often than not, they’ve helped me. At the very least, I like when people are able to actually put words to what they think is an actual problem. The odd thing being, hardly one is ever clearly dictated.

There’s always a problem. Something is always wrong, be it with your money situation, your relationships, your grades what have you. Your perspective on the very word “problem” flavors all of it. I have a problem, a potentially serious one with my plumbing in the kiosk. I genuinely want and am capable of going to the plumber and saying “You mother fucker, how can you justify setting this up a certain way, any idiot can tell this could flood, fuck me, cost me money. Not only are you irresponsible, you never pick up your fucking phone and your stupid fucking wife, regardless of how sweet she can sound on the phone, is so far up her own bullshit agenda is writing me off making it all the more difficult to get my shit up and running and pay my fucking bills.” And it feels that way, and I feel angry.

These are people I’ve paid $1000 dollars to. If they aren’t satisfying what is clearly reasonable to assume as their responsibility to do a job that doesn’t put me at undue risk, what am I left to do but get angry? How do I respond to someone who puts up their hands and goes “I don’t know what to tell you?”

I don’t think people have the best intentions. I so very rarely “focus on the positives” I could literally bang my head against a wall at points until the throbbing and utter disgust overwhelm me past the point of thinking anymore. Every step of the way is a battle. It’s not the fight I hate; it’s the fact that it’s unnecessary. It’s the fact that I genuinely don’t want to be filled with this practical and pragmatic calculating hatred, and yet people “ever so accidentally” give me every reason to maintain it. Everyone plays dumb or innocent.

It’s this shadow of blatant stupidity and denial I want to be rid of. It’s this passive aggressive “polite” conversation that spits in the face of reality. It’s these empty platitudes you get served and swallow so that you can gain an inch. How much shit I’ve had to take just to sell coffee? Should I really be humbled by the pursuit of running a business that no matter how much you’re willing to work, literally other people’s “busy schedules” and callous treatment of your time will dictate your success? Unless you physically compel them or pour money at their feet, nothing gets done in any way resembling a smart, correct, or efficient manner?

It’s more than sickening; it’s demoralizing. It literally sucks my will to put any effort into caring about shit. I understand the game, I’m playing the game, but I can’t sustain myself on this game. I need to change something or remove myself from it. More than I’m averse to pain, I’m violently hurling myself away from feeling hopeless. Whether it’s talking about friends opting for long term mental turmoil and significant emotional scarring or every “too telling” interaction I have with someone I have to cut a check to, the hopelessness is just…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Money. Not even what it does, just the emotional gratification it imparts. It doesn’t matter how much you have, all that matters is what it elicits in other people when you use it. My manipulative nature understands this and compels me to put up with too much bullshit in the name of what I see myself doing with money. Do I think I can buy people’s moral servitude? I already know what they’re willing to put up with, what they’re capable of, what I’ve been capable of putting up with. I must know it for certain. I can achieve any end. I can calculate, specifically to the last dollar, how much it will cost to run an agenda. And as quickly as the money shifts, when the emotional tit has been sucked dry, it’ll be on to the next ripest bosom.

We aren’t moral creatures. We’re creatures. A creature will put the electrical box next to the plumbing which might have reason to clog/flood over time because another creature doesn’t really care or (if the benefit of the doubt is to be given) never learned that drains can and always do clog. Creatures will expect your rent due despite a full understanding and appreciation for the extenuating circumstances having nothing to do with your negligence or laziness cause you to open late. Creatures will try to pawn off the blame of their employees for damaging your property in the face of said employees admitting to your “mere speculation.”

As my struggle with definitions that put anything “human” into humanity carries on, I’ll always think back to the relationships I’ve built and work on. My warning sign will be when I go into isolation and want nothing to do with the only things that ever pull me out of these horribly fucked up sadistic empty shithole places. I fucking hate everything; including the shit I’m under the impression I “have to” do in order to keep pretending I’m capable of changing any of it.  

[247] Domestic Abuse

You’re boring. I love you.

You tawdry fiery fiend.

I’ll have a bite. I’ll cut you.

I’ll eat you piece by piece.

You’re so mean yet debonair

Eyes go wild but locked in stare

Take me by my fucking hair

No you dolt I shall not share!

Sex and violence, one more round

Bounce it like a trampoline

A laugh, a tear, what’s that sound?

Take it bitch, it’s time to scream

What’s wrong with you, you sick sad freak?

All she wanted was a peak

Another body you made leak

Another soul gone, mild, meek

Time it better sugar daddy

It’s no time to brag

Grind her up like burger patty

Chores are such a drag

Getting late, must move quick

Click clock, tick tick tick

Such a heavy little prick!

Lake or dirt, take your pick

A drink it is, goes down smooth

Showed you how it’s done

Something stuck, oh my tooth

Indigestion

[246] Winging It Like A Boss

In the face of uncertainty, I want to prove that doing what’s “obvious” or moral will more often than not result in a desirable outcome.

I’m not exactly “winging it” with this coffee shop, but I’m kind of winging it. My entire problem solving process goes like this: “Hey, this is a problem…Oh, that’s what I have to do to fix it?...I did that thing so now the problem is fixed.” Scene. I believe in objective reality. This means that I bank my decisions on a common language and common perception of cause and effect. If history is anything to learn from, (it is) I’ve been lucky enough to be born into a world where lessons that take some people their entire lives to learn are neatly laid out in Cracked articles.

I want to spread the wealth around. I’m a dirty “Socialist” for all you idiots who have no idea what you’re talking about. I live an embarrassingly good life and remind myself of this every day. Spending money sucks, and fixing problems that should never have been problems sucks, and not sleeping sucks, and always feeling under-prepared sucks; I still live within the means and in a society that lets me try. I have an opportunity to make an investment in that society and in myself. What’s good for the people that help me with that is obviously good for me.

I have no idea why some people find this so hard to understand. If I was a billionaire, you could take 99% of my wealth and I’d still be better off than most people, let alone 90% after my first 10 billion. Yet, this is the paradigm we live in, where even the idea of enabling people to work, instead of sit around and wait to rebel, is met with anathema. It really makes me wonder how society is going to mold my ideas about business. Of course I started a business to turn a profit. I want to be self-sufficient, efficient, and personal. If those ideals can’t sustain me because the laws in place are designed to generate profit through exploitation and complicated legalese, where’s my place?

Of course I’m willing to try, given my half constructed kiosk sitting in the mall. I’ll kindly ask for patience while I make a few sales and then buy an espresso machine. I’ll try to engage in mutually beneficial advertising campaigns with other small business owners in town. I’ll use the eco-friendly cups and as fairly-traded coffee as possible. I’ll even start paying all of my taxes one day when it’s shown to me the money is actually going towards infrastructure and environmental care. But alas, I’m sure I’m just a naïve idealist with my little shop. I have no idea the minds of the big kids and how things are actually supposed to run. (The “asshole” way)

I’m genuinely concerned and confused by a dumb society. My ideals go out the window when you can’t get past feeding or housing people. And that’s certainly the state of many places in the world and for a growing number of people here. I need a good portion of people to be better in the same way I’m trying to express what I can show to be better. Otherwise, you literally will be a drag on other people.  I don’t want to just succeed in making money; I want to succeed in generating value. I want to excite, motivate, and make people smile. I want to teach and idiot proof things. I want things to be learning and growing opportunities instead of looming risks attenuated only by the fervent “good luck” sentiments of your friends.

If anyone is proud or happy for me, don’t forget or pretend that you don’t impact what I do. You teach me, you challenge me, and you motivate me, usually more often than you frustrate or scare me. My friend circle is part of society-at-large. I hope that I can affect you back in ways that let you stand for the ideas you know will make the world, if only in your circle, better.

[245] Plotting

I want to talk a little about how I plan to take over the world.

The first thing to be done, as far as I can see, will be to draw a map. If you’re going to correct or change the nature of something, you should understand how its pieces fit together. Problems are interrelated. Poverty exists because somewhere someone is profiting from someone being poor. While it isn’t a horrible idea to start a homeless shelter or something comparable, it isn’t really addressing the core issue. We start wars that have everything to do with energy. We have ridiculous fiscal policies that are directly related to misunderstandings and failures of our legal system and privatization. If you can explain where the money goes and identify who is profiting, you can then know how you need to move your chess pieces.

Luckily, we live in the information age. My only hope for humanity comes from Google. Let me explain. Because information can be stored, copied, compiled and manipulated with clicks of a mouse, significant amounts of it can be distributed very quickly. This is very important for a number of reasons. One, it makes it hard to pin down where and how something started. The number one concern I have is for the safety of myself and the people I care about. If I can get the information working instead of making myself a target, I succeed where many fail when they invent or try to change something.

Secondly, if it is to be believed that people are getting less and less likely to pay attention to anything for more than a few minutes (of this I have many doubts) it allows you to understand things in terms that can stand against even the most vigorous Colbert interviews. You can make qualiasoup-esc shorts for Youtube. You can make inforgraphs. You can compile all the links and resources in easily researchable and clickable ways. Surely, I shouldn’t have to sell you on what the internet is capable of, but I think it’s important to lay out some of the specific ways of outreach.

I want to act like a virus. If you’re going to change something, why not play by the rules that are already getting a response and shift the tides without causing too much of a fuss? When religions were trying to take over the one that came before it they adopted the myths and gods of previous traditions into their own framework. I think I might have enough sense of the American ethos to spin an idea that would make sense in couch-potato terms, or over-worked and under paid terms, or “if only I had the time” terms. Expediency and convenience are a lot of peoples’ guiding light. It’s unrealistic to blow up or boycott gas stations, but if you give each consumer a tool to manipulate and get the most out of the gas they inevitably have to get, you’re winning.

I have a hunch that the more you teach and trust people with, you’ll be “surprised” at how well things can actually run. What’s the alternative? We keep killing the planet, we keep funneling money to the top 1%, we continue to lament all the time and effort lost, and ideas for real change stay firmly locked in documentaries. It gets really old hearing the potential disaster scenarios by enabling and trusting the public. The current state of the world, as my one friend Chet pointed out, is that we have weapons that can wipe out all life on the planet. Explain to me how it gets much worse if we’re talking in terms of potential. Here’s a clue, no matter the state of the world you shouldn’t trust anyone or anything implicitly. Luckily, I don’t play by the rules of trust and forgiveness and stick to results instead.

With my map, I want to identify the clogs in the system. Where will a little information or a little money get things running smoother? There is no end to the problems people face, so how can you fix all of them with the least amount of effort? What I’m learning is that you have to do the Googling for other people. If one can’t recognize or care to acknowledge a problem, you can’t argue or expect anything from them. I’m also trying, with much effort, to learn the amount of informed and willing to fight people that are simply waiting to be enabled properly. A shared burden looks less and less like a problem over time. A ton of people all fighting the same battle from their computer screens is important, but not the kind of impact I’m looking to create.

This brings up another strategy of mine. I will make acts become visible while remaining invisible. I want to be the billionaires of today you’ve never heard of without the burden and anxiety of protecting my empire. I want to have my representatives in the media. I want the “small” changes and adjustments I make around the country or world to make the news. And from what I’ve seen of the news I should be accomplishing this accident let alone with the plans I’d lay out.

Power is simply the control and manipulation of resources. Living in an age where information can reach around the world and back in seconds means the old power paradigm is dying. What are considered to be “resources” will shift and someone will move in to commoditize it. In my view, nothing is more powerful than workable information. This is something that costs arguably nothing. Well before we started making fumbling economies and playing with numbers we don’t understand, our goals were to eat, sleep, fuck, and stay alive. I don’t think the world has to burn over and over again for people to start forming a better perspective of what they are doing with their time and information. You don’t care to wage war when everything you need is available.

For the record, big bubbles on my map will be health/food, education, the environment, and poverty/income disparity. If you or someone you know thinks themselves informed or passionate about one or more of these issues, I’d like to hear from you. It needs to be more than merely teaching people. Getting hands in the dirt is the only long term practical solution in my view. The alternative being us staying perpetually misinformed or disenfranchised being passed around by corrupt corporate ethos. I’d also like to state that this blog exists so that when people say “I never saw it coming” or “I didn’t realize Nick P. was actually serious” we can still get the required amount of irony life so obnoxiously demands.

[244] It's All About The He Said She Said

Watching Morgan Spurlock’s old show 30 Days is arousing many a thought in me. What I can state right off the bat is how bad…terrible…atrocious people are at arguing. It truly boggles the mind how little someone can know about something and then passionately rally in favor of their opinion. (Insert irony now.)

In case you don’t know, 30 days pits one “I hate this or that” kind of person and puts them in the middle of whatever they hate. If you’re a minute man, you get put into a house of illegal immigrants; an atheist gets housed with Christians etc. What you get is 25 days of arguing, and usually about 5 where the person opting for the experience finally appreciates that other people are human and everyone wants the same things.

What kills me is that it’s the exact same problem that all of these people face. They all get passionate and start yelling the same catch phrases over and over. Then they get exposed to more and more reality, and they leave, still pretty stupid, but with the confused look a dog gets on their face when they really thought you threw the ball.

To me, it shouldn’t take 30 days of yelling stupid things back and forth to get people to understand something. Call me naïve, I must be. What kills me is that most of these candidates that volunteer themselves for the 30 days aren’t even just kind of passionate about their hatred for the other side, they’re pretty ill-informed about life in general. The christian living with muslims doesn’t know what wasabi is, the mom who binge drinks to teach her kid a lesson doesn’t know what a roofie is, and the straight guy who takes his shirt off in a gay bar doesn’t understand why some of the guys might get the idea to hit on him.

If I really want my ideas to take over the world, I’ve got my work cut out for me. I somehow need to act as dumb as everything around me, yet engineer the words or the situations to play out in my favor. This could be as easy as implementing public policy, to as hard as learning about the specific backgrounds and dispositions of a specific group of people. It’s doable, but fuck.

What bugs me the most is that I don’t necessarily consider myself special or somehow more privy to knowledge than the middle class people I yell at on the idiot box. Why am I able to read, google, take time out of my day to humble myself and be honest about what I do and don’t know, and these people can’t? It’s not like my parents had long intellectual-esc talks with me growing up. I didn’t kick it with the wise janitor in high school. What allows me to seek and respect ideals that, while obviously selfish, simply exist beyond my ability to get pissed off and whine about how I feel? Maybe I can put it in pill form…

For as willing as I am to argue or spend time writing these blogs, I more often than not just shut the hell up. I don’t actually like to look foolish, which is why I try to stick towards saying things I can defend. How do you teach shame and humility? How do you stop people from feeling so damn entitled? No matter how many times you scream “It’s my human right! This is absolutely true!” You’re still wrong. At the very least, you should be honest about your ability and likelihood of being wrong.

It really is a war of ideas, and if you can actually be made to see the state of the world, look at what they reap. It’s apparently the best idea to be a screaming child your entire life, completely unaware or scared of reality, getting by with your fingers crossed that your meager existence will be rewarded because you feel good about yourself right before you die.

You’re only entitled to death. You don’t really own anything. Every single idea you’ve ever had is influenced by something previous. Maybe if you weren’t so entrenched in your hateful ideas, you could flow into a place of understanding without everyone looking this stupid along the way.

But hey, majority rules and if stupid’s in, it’s here to stay. And less we forget; it’s not like you ever had a choice.

[243] Bcuz It's Ez

It’s been too long. Check It

“God.”

When I hear people say this word, I literally have no idea where they are coming from. No, I don’t feel like I’ve been forsaken or am somehow “spiritually bankrupt.” I’m not inexplicably stricken deaf when they utter the sound. I’m simply flooded with the torrent of meanings that have ever been associated with the word. My mind flashes to every incoherent story or scary justification I’ve ever heard. If I’m a person who seeks even a meager understanding of things, it’s words and concepts like “god” that lead to nothing.

And that’s why I’m an atheist. I hesitate to even say atheist because of the weird instance in our language that allows for a word to exist denoting an absence. I’m also an asantaist, afairyist, etc. More importantly I think it’s important to talk about what you are over what you aren’t. Who cares what you don’t believe in? You’re hardly going to act in the name of it, justify your actions by it, or ever think a harmful or helpful thought as a result of it because the “it” in question isn’t even there.

I shy away from the entitlement people try to claim from words like “rationalist,” “bright,” “intellectual,” “humanist,” “free thinker,” “gnostic,” “agnostic,” etc. These seem to be incomplete and can be used as something to hide behind when you don’t understand something. Or, it makes another point of “us vs. them.” It’s as if somehow they’ve reached the end of their understanding and now this semi-arbitrary title suits them until they can’t help but think again.

I’m human. Even if you and I don’t know every detail of what that entails, you can at least draw a stick figure. I represent something. I’m made of things. I have intentions and act upon the world. All of my power or knowledge to do something comes from simply being human. Everything about the world, or at least “my world,” is contained in my consciousness at any given moment I choose to recognize it. At times, it seems like this concept is harder for people to understand than any abstract notion of a god.

The simple idea is that there are rules. It’s a game. If I don’t feed myself and wipe my ass, I’ll die smelling of shit. If I want to achieve a different end, I’ll play by the rules. It’s at this point a religious person might say something like, “I have rules too, and if I don’t follow them, I won’t get into heaven.” There is a simple, ever so simple, reason why this isn’t a counterpoint. I didn’t make the rules I have to follow. You, or someone before you, did. In the realm of pragmatic objectivity, nothing you think matters. You still get to die if you don’t eat, you still get to smell if you don’t wipe. Every story about before our existence and after our death is made up.

But people are so insecure. How could I live with myself if I thought I was so insignificant? Here’s a thought. Try it. See how long you really go thinking you’re nothing but shit and that the people you care about don’t matter. See what happens when you think you’re actions have no consequences. I’ll literally put money on that not lasting a day. I don’t feel comfortable with excuses. You either do something or you don’t, and while there are a million ways to describe it, few of those ways actually speak to what happened or didn’t. Distinguishing what makes stories relevant is of the highest importance to me.

I speak of patterns. When I question someone’s beliefs, I hear the patterns. In fact, peoples’ response patterns are so prevalent, you will see them throughout history, in every “rage” thread whining about how illogical Christians are being, and you can even predict what someone will say if you know even a modest amount about their background. I think it is patterns that destroy the world. When we get into habits that “feel right” or that we’re used to and just carry on until something bad happens ever wondering why and how it did.

I think belief in god is a bad pattern.

I don’t need, nor want, nor justify for someone else an external excuse to do something. I cannot deny what harm comes from disassociating yourself from your responsibilities or decisions. Do you feel the urge to defend yourself? From what? Are you special and different? Does your conception of an Almighty Force trump literally everything that came before you? I doubt it. You’re not even in the above video :P.

I am humbled by humanity. I get to be reminded every day how little I understand or know. On the other side of the coin, the things I’ve worked at, the consequences I enable, tend to go as expected. I get to slowly shape the world, piece by piece, into one I find more agreeable. I get to think about death in a way that makes me appreciate life more than fear what happens when it’s present. Most importantly, I get to remain internally and externally consistent. If I woke up tomorrow with just a hate filled rant about gay people, or thought oil was our ticket to saving the planet, or volcano ghosts where going to take over Los Angeles, hopefully, you’d be confused as fuck.

We let kids believe in things that aren’t there because we empathize. We understand the need for companionship and how crappy it can be to feel alone. We understand being afraid of questions and the unknown. My refusal to treat people like kids puts me in the “most distrusted” group in America? My insistence on developing a consistent language for our shared human experience is the worst thing you can conceive a person doing?

Eh, it’s not like you have a choice or anything so I’ll just keep doing my thing and I guess you’ll just keep doing yours.

[242] Just Freakin' A Bit

Do you even fucking realize? I want to be blatant. I want to be belligerent. I’m seeking to be called out on all my shit and then some. I need fuckers who appreciate where I’m coming from. We are privileged. We have to worry about statistically nothing. Does this compute?

Where do my goals come from? Why do I say things like, “I want the world, if only to fall marginally short and just end up with Europe or something.”? What the hell kind of personality do you have to have to make it justifiable to want to change the world? I think I’m just a sick, ever so sick, egomaniac that will die with his ideal just like every other fucker who’s thought themselves insightful.

What happens when I give up? What does it mean when I literally only strive for money via the social manipulation that makes it manifest? What happens when I take all the intent I have for the world and boil it down to something simple like greed? I’m so fucking desperate for conversations on the level of why these aren’t worth it.

The ever going problem and blessing (so to speak) is that I know just how much is possible. Possible. Not guaranteed. Not some pact between smart people waiting ever dormant for the “right” moment. I just simply know what the fuck can happen and how. It drives me fucking insane.

I want to be cool about it. I want to play things off. I want to pretend just like the rest of the world. I’m still fucking sick. I’m fucking plagued by it. I can’t just forget. I think it’s the reason I can justify the kind of terrible person I could be. These are unpleasant thoughts.

In more ways than one, I want what I already have. I want no less for the random billions of people I’ll never get to know. I have no fucking clue why I would or could give even give the ever loving fuck for someone so random like that, but I do. I fucking hate it.

I just want your moments to count. I want you to be reminded of who you were in relation to who you are now or could be. I don’t want it to be such an endless struggle. I don’t want it to be sad. I have no fucking idea how I’m to go about this.

Pathetic bullshit rant aside, just know that I feel hopeless while knowing I have all the potential in the world.

At this point I’m hardly convinced I shouldn’t say “fuck it” and roll with whatever, whenever.

[241] Engineer Sincerity, Depravity

Honesty is a funny thing. It changes the nature of what you’re trying to be honest about. It’s going to change this blog as I figure out what the hell is on my mind.

I write for me, for clarity, and to maybe in small, ever so small ways, influence someone who reads me. I talk about religion, personal squabbles, from time to time political crap. I used to just endlessly complain about things until I no longer had a headache. Granted, that may still happen, but it’s not the norm anymore. I have a problem where I never feel like enough has been said. I take things that people want to remember as “a fight” or “a platitude” and go on for days about the implications. My attempts, I suppose, to relate to this simple method of understanding is the random rhyme times or poetry. I’ll sort that under ironic.

I hate and love patterns. I love their utility. I hate when I see someone stuck in them. I hate to think of myself as simply being part of a huge one. Perhaps to some it’s some token of relief, “oh hey, it’s all planned out for me I can sit back and ride it out.” I have this searing desire to blame people for their actions and find pride in objectively accounting for how and why I behave. I’d like for there to be an inherent respect for using this chance to think about things to actually matter even a marginal degree more than those who say “fuck it” and scurry about haphazardly.

Logic is cold. When things behave in calculable ways, they just do. It doesn’t matter how you feel about math, things are going to play out according to the numbers, at least for this universe.

I don’t believe in free will while acting like I do.

As a result, I judge, while having very little faith in my judgments past a meager point. It keeps me perpetually confused, yet not necessarily frustrated. The problem is I want free will. I understand the implications of believing in free will. It would tie up a lot of loose ends about the battles I’ve engaged in or the decisions I’ve made. I just can’t convince myself it is real. If anything, I do things to perpetuate an illusion.

The illusion of free will is itself an illusion.

I thusly restrain myself to capacity. Let me explain. Because I can feel pain, I work on creating an illusion that keeps it minimal. Because I hate certain patterns, I mold my illusion to surprise me. I engage in this for the deliberate randomness. In this sense, I engineer keeping myself happy and sane. If there is a ridiculously high limit to what I can create or control, I try to find it. I keep going until I get bored or find “good reason” to stop.

A significant issue with this is when I involve other people.

I’m a loner primarily for the utility of trying to refrain from being deliberately evil. This is fundamentally why I seek out people who don’t just like me or get along well enough, but genuinely understand how and why and where I’m coming from. I can’t hurt people who know what I’m doing. And no, it’s not enough to act like you know, or assure me that you know, like recognizes like. When a psych experimenter goes into the doctor’s office pretending to have schizophrenic episodes, there’s a reason he fools the doctor but not the real schizophrenic sitting in the hall.

I admit I’m a social primate. I like hanging out and drinking, talking, fucking, gaming, Frisbee, and the occasional pissing contest. The conflict is whether these are the goals or the distractions. I think they’re both. Then you go a level higher, justifying the means, or lack thereof, for the ends. How much money do you think I need to make to drink, talk, fuck, play games, and continue on my quest to watch all the media on my hard drives? I’ll tip my hat to my relative ingenuity and perspective to say, not that much. But I hate hippies. I know that I would feel lazy and that I’ve wasted my potential. I mean, even having the idea of potential is part of my acting like I have free will. As long as my ideas about potential stay…stable…there’s still hope right?

You’ll learn it’s not your job to save the world. Excerpt from here. (now broken)

But it’s my world. And my world is worth saving. Once I learn this nugget, I’ve grown complacent, resolved to my fate. My world involves all sorts of people from those marginally helpful to the ones who are utterly destructive. I have very explicit goals and ideas about how these peoples’ behaviors influence my world. As a result, I need to change them or myself accordingly.

I know I can change people, but act like I can’t.

I want to be an arbiter of fate, not dictator. That would just fall victim to the pattern problem. It’s hard to look at social psychology, history, or mirror neurons and make the case against the potential for influencing people. We think because we can scream “you don’t know me!” and it actually convinces people, that we’re somehow insulated from everything before and around us.

This is me veering off topic. Any master plan I had to take over the world would have to make a priority out of nuance. There’s no way to account for every interpretation, but theoretically you could build in mechanisms to address the fallout. At the very least, try to protect yourself. This is me veering back

I like people, for a while. Thus I hate them, for they are the source of all my “misery.” My capacity for hatred should not be understated. Now, on the surface, even I want to call this projecting. This isn’t a bad thing. If I have very specific things that I hate, of course it’s because I recognize my own capacity for them as well. But, more of course, it’s because of the destructive nature of certain position. It’s not your pride or laziness or fear in and of themselves that I hate. It’s when you don’t yet, or moreover care, to learn when and why they’re bad things.

Maybe because I don’t see my potential for ever “getting over” being deliberately evil, I get frustrated when I see other people refusing to change. This compounded with my lack of belief in free will, creates a perfect storm of timidly pointing the finger, essentially back at myself, relying on a naïve hope about potential that can break the cycle. Yet, I never feel like a slave. I don’t go out of my way to cause harm; I just know I’m prepared to. I reach a point of “overtly compelling feelings” and simply make a decision. Or, at least, feel like the decision is mine.

So then the idea is to convince people they have a decision, even if it “should” only be in the service of goals on one end of a spectrum. Self-interest only works when people feel like they’re going to die and don’t actually want to. Social welfare only works when you even understand how much you’re getting from “the system.” Get your government hands off my Medicaid. I think this is why I opt for a “tough love” position; essentially forcing people to act in their best interests, the ensuing drama of not doing so not being worth it.

I’m left with just working with whatever is on my mind. I’m not trying to lie, but I feel I’m going to inevitably make myself look like a liar. I can state a goal or something about my character and still hold tight to the idea that the only truth is change; the rate and nature of which to be determined. Fate is more than just convincing yourself of an idea; it’s the moment to moment commitment to that idea. Maybe you’re only free when you realize your commitment to each moment.

[240] Sick Sick Sick Sick Sick

Wonder if I need to talk

Talk talk talk talk talk

Wonder if I need to walk

Walk walk walk walk walk

Wonder if I need to die

Die die die die die

Wonder if I need to cry

Nah

Wonder if I need to scream

Scream scream scream scream fucking scream

Wonder if I need to dream

Dream dream dream dream dream

Wonder if I need to sleep

Sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep

Wonder if I need to pee

Nah

Wonder where I’m going next

Where where where where where

Wonder what I’m showing next

What what what what what

Wonder who I’ll lose and when

When when when when when

Wonder why I care again

Why why why why why

Circles spinning round my head

Spin spin spin spin spin

Restless legs kicking in

Kick kick kick kick kick

Tired but I cannot quit

No no no no no

Growing ever sick of it

Stop stop stop stop stop

[239] Random Rhyme Time 3

Break bills; make change; aide with your modicum money shot. Too hot, triple sexotic, dropped the pot, forget me not. Working, caught me jerking, twirk twirk twirk twirking. Asking why for no reason; treason, ideas stick around; adhesion. This lesion cuts deep, like a knight, can’t sleep, Bo Peeps; sweet treats. White meat hippy hopping through my dreams.

 Shine’s bright; can’t be seen at night; white shades take on a spade. Drama; Shakespearean; Catholic Presbyterian. In and out an ear again. Choking back a tear again, smoking stacks of fear again, overdosing oxy, gin. Recite for me the lines again, we’re running out of time again! The show begins at 9, but when you scream I want to die! Ascend.

I’ll fix it, lemme try to win. By win I mean, bite me, Charlie. Si vous plait? I’m game. To lose, what a shame. You rang? A neck in vein; hunger pain. Dirty mouth, Kandy Stars in Hershey Stains. Growing pains, Captain Kirk, “God created the big bang” Light speed warp through golden gates. Sulu set the phasers, stun; that’s one way to smoke a gun.

Honey, am I sweet enough? Rio, do I tease enough? Lining up the lines of dust. Cut like diamonds, fine, the rough. Find the bust-stop and just, pop ya nuts, nocuous Candy corn syrup in the populous, Choc-u-las, wiggle room homunculus. Suck it down, vacuous, pack a snack, puke it up, whatcha got, have a look. Just like momma used to cook. Shake ya butt, have a cup, think it’s time to wrap it up. 

Shake around your curly hair, cancer patients stop and stare, place your bets on their demise, Moe and Larry poking eyes. Why so wise? Asinine, ass so fine, cat-o-nine. Tails you lose, heads again, peaking at you through the blinds, bubble time, sipping wine, faucet running over-time. Get it girl it’s not too late, there’s no shame to masticate, to taste the fame, to entertain, the teeny boppers, boxer stains. Tighty whitey’s, voting race, black guy always sets the pace. Raising money for the cure, lost the battle; racial slur. 

Had a dream, then I died, awoke to find my other life, some other guy’s, another strife.

Familiar yet I still surprise, I’m in disguise. Trust rely, bust re-try. Forgetting all the reasons why. Remembering, cycles bike, spoken like I’ve done this right before. Whores! Back hand in to settle scores. Shoot the rock, pass the cock between the team of cream and crimson memes abound, party time, riders to the starting line. 

Overhill, found the spot, when you sweat its cus I’m hot, pocket poking shocker locking, don’t stop now I’m only jocking, juking, riding up like Daisy Duking. Pulling buckets sucker’s puking. Kiddies at the fucking bash always out of fucking cash. Drink it up, every drop, this ain’t soda, pop pop. When it burns, then you know, lightning round, second go.

[238] Hey

Death lingers. It watches as you live and pretend. A daily reminder of what’s to come. We’re obsessed with it. It’s not an accident that news centers on the terrors of the world. That tugging on what people are afraid of will always get a reaction. Death has power. It’s the ultimate power. When you make it your goal to enlighten your perspective to always include death, nothing stops you. When you learn how fear of death controls you, you learn how to control others.

I’ve said I watch so much TV because it makes me think.

To a greater extent, I don’t think it’s too rash of me to say I’m obsessed with death. I could shape just about anything I do on the premise that I will almost certainly one day die. I respect few taboos, and only if they have overtly negative consequences. I don’t treat anything, but the pursuit of rational behavior as sacred. I take chances to keep things exciting, and because I realize how little chance has to do with it. I observe and record consequences.

The more I force myself to be aware of things, the harder it is to force a veil of naivety. I’ve had opportunity, and will almost certainly continue to have it. I take what I already know I have to say or do, and do or say it, or I don’t. It always depends on the game. Because it’s here where my obsession with death takes a back seat; when it comes to games, I treat everything like I’m in one. It could be from this core behavior that I adopted the term “learned sociopath.”

You don’t care about the enemies you kill in Halo, the money you spend in Grand Theft Auto, or how many times you die in either. You’ll see people get angry, throw controllers, shit talk, huff and puff. You’ll see people get ridiculously “skilled” at centering a crosshair and pulling a trigger. They’ll win money and take pride in what they do. It’s safe to say they’ve had opportunity too.

It’s superficial; a chief tenant for a game. You need to buy into that reality. You deliberately put emotional capital in your character. You perceive intent from your foes. You revel in the futility of your victims. The game is what you make of it.

The fun idea is how close of an analogy I’m making, and how little most people realize. Your brain doesn’t care. If you lock a super computer and a person in a box and ask them questions, and no matter what answer you get you still never manage to pick out which answered, your brain is happy to equate them. What happens when you can’t deny a computer’s “consciousness?” Is something alive just by virtue of saying it can feel and realize as such? Questions for a different day.

My current concern, or maybe ongoing concern, is with my social scene. I get to learn about practically anything I want. I have a wealth of knowledge to pick from. It’s not so much “how do I pick what I believe” that’s the fairly easy part. It’s “what do I believe other people are believing” that gets tricky. For that I have tepid metrics like “popular opinion,” “misplaced ego,” or “fear response.” The stronger metrics I’d rather leave left unsaid; it’s just too much to explain right now.

I want to understand my current social scene in the context of history, where applicable. As far as I can tell, the whole of existence is…almost thought I could answer that it one sentence. What I see when I look at history is people using things. I don’t even want to suppose what their “ends” were, but speculating at this point appears to be all I have. It’s looking for stability. It’s non-living particles becoming more stable as complex living organisms. It’s using information to try and feel better. It’s seeking a purpose even if that purpose is only to believe you have one. Adopt your neighbor’s creed and raise your fists in solidarity. Information spreads as an end in itself.

The story of us, to me, while the most fantastic story of overcoming obstacles and technological advances that we’ve ever known, is still sad and pathetic. We still die from almost everything. We still harbor irrational fears. We are experts are saying one thing and doing another. While we are imbued with all the feelings necessary of a cohabitating species, we still rebel; we still find novelty and joy in things being different. We set rules to establish a set of principles, but few to none to abolish old ones.

I think this is why I will always suffer in a social scene. Understand that suffering does not mean I would somehow be unable to enjoy, understand, or proliferate in one. But I do suffer. I watch people play by rules that maybe used to make sense. I see them confound their principles, assuming they have them laid out at all, with the highest mantra a “mere beast” could aspire to. It’s not enough for me to play by the rules, or be around people who basically play along with me. I need people to understand their roots.

This is a most formidable wall between me and other people. It’s impossible to merely convince someone else of your position. They have to feel it with the understanding that thoughts inform those feelings and vice versa. You can pick a mutual goal and try to pursue it together, but at best, the goal gets completed and you’re never closer to understanding anything. A shared will is necessary. A shared “soul” if I’m to annoy myself by confounding language. In much the same way as you can’t quantify either a will or soul, it’s prevailing push is towards, what I think, understanding.

If you set your “soul” or will on understanding magic sky daddies, no shit you feel ever so enthused the more unexplainable or terribly rationalized a situation you encounter. If you set your will on a person, how unimaginably filled with love you will proclaim you have; what more could we possibly exist for!? I see these as handicaps. They arrest your mind. When you set your will to yourself, you open the biggest door for understanding. Shame on you if you call it ego-centrism.

Underneath any subjective claim we can make about ourselves is a string of information, history, objectively identifiable and quantifiable set of things that quantified into you. It harps on the idea that if you can understand one thing completely, then you understand everything. I don’t need nor care to understand everything. But, if I get really good at understanding the things I can, then I’m able to understand everything I need. More importantly, I’m able to understand everything about you I need. When I care to know more, facts about your specific history, we become friends.

The big secret, at least as far as I see it, is that this isn’t a secret. Why do people pretend like it is? Why do I consistently make certain kinds of people cry when I ask “why?” Why do I have zero qualms about anything I say? Why do I establish a boundary only to break it or push past it? I want to see if history plays out like it always has. I understand that change is neither good nor bad. I understand the kind of person I make myself out to be and the hows and whys people get used to or justify what I say. I know what I’m capable of as a mere human; therefore I know what you are capable of as well.

If I don’t get to get away with fooling myself that we actually live in a video game, I don’t respect your ideas about magic sky daddies. If I understand that someone can view anyone or anything as the most beautiful or most hideous thing on the plant, I don’t respect your ego about your looks or what you think of me. If I can get bored or confused or utterly disagree with someone who thinks themselves as thoughtful as I am, I know I can come off as boring or confusing or disagreeable. These kinds of reflective and reflexive thoughts need to become implicit. As easy as it is to deceive, you can be deceived. If your metrics by which to gauge life or your place in it don’t exist in a place independent of your ego, you’re doomed to either repeat or fail.

I want my social scene to be more than what I can read from you after catching it in myself. I seek that deep appreciation for how and why it exists. I want something worth fighting for. I think that’s why I put up with so many people being alive, and their shitty, shitty ideas. It’s because I know, I feel, what they are capable of, and I still manage to be primarily happy. I know what pitfalls I have fallen into and am always capable of falling into, but can quantify and respect my objectively good life. I know what one example of something can mean to someone; so I want to be as honest an example as you’ll let me be.

[237] Little Victims (incomplete poem)

Let me take you on a roller coaster ride.

I take it back.

Let me take you to the place I love to hide.

And just like that,

Never mind

Are you bored, my dear?

I try to excite.

No no, you’d never shed a tear

Walk alone at night

Ever clear

A fantastic array you can paint

Or maybe quite daft

Holier than thou, but never a saint

No need for a draft

It’s faint

[236] Flaws Paws Laws Flaws

I think as long as people either refuse to change, or choose to be hopelessly slow in doing so, I’m going to make myself more comfortable with treating them how I feel about them “instinctively.” Now, I’m not so naïve as to think that feelings are the governing factor, I’m just instead putting more stock in others’ perceivable actions. The flurry of thoughts that get me to make that “off” joke or that semi-condescending look will just have to hide a bit less. I have a lot of trouble trying to resolve myself on how to assess people. As long as I don’t want to project helplessness, fear, and such an overactive ego as to suppose I can’t be wrong, I’ll have to find myself impossible to accept it in turn.

I want to stress that it’s not because I want to be mean. It’s because I don’t want to condone ignorance and excuses. There’s so much about our culture that more than bugs me, and it tends to put me on the outside. This is perhaps another thing I need to better resolve myself to. I’m not lonely, but I do think I’m alone. Much of what I do makes this a deliberate position. I do it because I think it keeps me honest. I think I engage in so many conversations with people because I’m ever searching for more objectivity. More respect for an objective standard than a comforting credo. For every person I think may hint at this understanding of reality, I also engage with, overhear, or am forced to be made aware of hundreds who don’t have a prayer.

I find every time I try to define myself, it comes up lacking. I tout phrases like “on the level,” “real,” “objective,” or “deliberately aware.” The deeper I dig into the arbitrary whys, they start to fall by the wayside. I think ultimately I’m just trying to point to things, illuminate, or expand upon necessary or obvious circumstances. When someone is sad or struggling with some issue, I don’t need a super computer brain to come up with “cosmic gems” of advice about relationships or your capacity.

Things have patterns. I forgo delving into some psych profile about one of my friends because I’ve had enough all react in foreseeable ways to the information. Double blind exists for a reason. I bar myself from “caring too much” because anticipating the letdown is more fulfilling and meaningful than perpetuating what I can only perceive as a child’s dream. What’s more self-fulfilling though? Allowing something to happen, or deliberately acting in defiance? Couldn’t such an opportunity lie between two people who’ve reached this same impasse?

I think my biggest problem is not really knowing how to make people genuinely happy. I know how to give people everything they need and “want” and know exactly how to watch them get bored with it. I know how to watch people revel in their “disease” or “love” or personal heartache, not so presumably, because it makes them the center of the universe. I don’t like to believe that people like to cry or struggle or be illogical, but nothing about what they generally say or do speaks to any other reality. “Logic” is a standard of personal responsibility, not a zero-sum game between your feelings and mind.

[235] You Deserve It

You know, you fucking deserve it. You get and deserve every fucking thing you ask for. I’m tired of being pissed off for people. I won’t hold your fucking torch or belabor your cause. You’re weak. You’re complacent. You’ve accepted “how things are” instead of dictating how things are going to be. Fuck you. Fuck you so squarely with a massive dick I can’t even put it into words. You’re fucking pathetic and hopeless.

I have this problem. I tend to believe that I’m a rational actor in this game I like to call life. My decisions matter. My perspective influences how and why I do things. Apparently, I’m utterly fucking alone on this premise.

I can’t do it anymore. I can’t hope for you. I can’t believe for you. I can’t take up your cause. In fact, I’m so disgusted by what I’ve heard tonight, I will work in stark contrast to your cause. I will debilitate you in the manner in which you expect. You weak pathetic fuck of a person.

I have no patience for people who think they don’t matter. I don’t want to hear you bitch. I want to hear what the fuck you are doing to change something. I don’t want you lamenting your last fifteen years of work or complaining about how shitty your manager is. I want you dictating how they should and are going to behave if respectable people are expected to work the fucking job you are working.

Nothing will elate and then completely depress me than the exercise of talking to fucking people.

You minimum wage burger junkies working to get your kids through school are complacent. You are scared. You have no idea, and worse, no inclination or will to fight a shitty and dishonorable paradigm in which you work. That’s your fucking fault.

I hate you. I fucking hate you. I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I fucking fucking hate the ever loving fuck out of you. You dangle the idea that I can have hope in you and then fucking shit on it when it matters. I fucking hate you. You are the fucking reason shit never changes. You are the reason the world will be marred in shit. You are the weak fucking link that needs to die off and leave room for the fucks that actually believe in themselves.

You’ve allowed yourself to be beaten by “The system.” You make excuses. You deny. You fear. I fucking hate you.

[233] I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

I wish the world was smart enough to realize that it doesn’t need to freak out. It almost always doesn’t need to stress or fight, or even be confused. I want to be a part of a new social game. I want people to rely on each other because they know how and what to be relied upon. I don’t want leeches. I want investors. I want lessons to be taught in the kind of people you can trust and ones you can’t. I want people to be honest with themselves about what they are capable of and what they aren’t.

Say the economy tanks again. Say people are doing here what has been done throughout history. They buy up all the Walmart resources; they buy up guns and try to stockpile gold or some other form of local currency. If America wants to continue to be an example and a standard, I think the best they thing they can do is not freak the fuck out. When you think you can’t pay for something or can’t support someone, start with refraining from freaking the fuck out. There is no nobility in dying alone, and there is even less in ensuring the death of those around you because of your petty or naïve sense of selfishness.

I really don’t think, even now, people understand the utility of cooperation. I think the idea of things being “fair” is naïve. When you cooperate, whether it is for one or the group, you’re espousing an ideal that goes beyond a naïve conception of fairness. After all, how many times can you hear the adage that life isn’t fair? How much less can you care about the starving kids in Africa before you forgo “fair” as a mantra around which to construct the meager morality of your life?

I think people need to resolve themselves with the idea that they are going to get squarely fucked. Not just inconvenienced or provided with some opportunity to grow and learn, but squarely and supremely fucked. Too often, you won’t have the money, the cure, the answers, the resources, or maybe even the will to endure some level of bullshit. This is where I’d like to come in. This is where I’d like to encourage like-minded individuals to join me.

I’d like to die being more of an enabling resource than a hindrance. Helping people doesn’t mean you have to open yourself up to abuse or that the people who need the help are looking to abuse. It isn’t rocket science to figure out when the help needs to stop or start. Here’s the secret, try not being a fucking idiot.  

It feels good to help people, and it feels good to be able to trust that someone is there to help. Things really don’t need to come with strings attached. I start beaming smiling at the idea of just helping or contributing for the sake of helping or contributing. Making someone smile or relieved because that is an end in and of itself. I find life too…empty, lonely, and depressing, if I don’t try for these ideals.

My idea is to make a specific goal of making life simple. If you have a question, ask someone. If you have a problem, make sure you line up the kinds of people that can actually help you with it. If all you have to invest is yourself, then do it and use that to trade or try to equate what you wish to get from someone else. Don’t feel alone, it’s unnecessary and rarely helpful.

I’ll keep making the appeal. If you make your problems known, I want to see if there’s anything I can do to help. Maybe when everyone realizes there are simple answers, we can start to understand problems in a different way. Maybe when we daily actualize the capacity of people, we can stop superficially hoping and instead objectively justify where our reasons for believing in something lie.

[234] Spilled Over

This has no point, no continuity, and is purely because I’m drunk and bored :p

Games can be fun. They can be taken too far, but they can be fun. After all, I run this whole life thing as a game. I try not to be too far up my own ass, but who’s to say sometimes haha.

It’s hard to state how much disdain I have for some things. I don’t let it weigh me down by any means lol but when my aunt, for example, has 400,000 in cash to deposit on a new house and I need maybe 5 grand to comfortably start this coffee venture, and I can almost certainly hope to hear some level of scrutiny and bullshit about lending me the money, the depths of my hatred tend to peak out.

I love opportunities to shine a light on the utter bullshit that consists of our life. Here’s some more from my “family.”

As previously stated, I have an aunt who is hella richer than I ever conceived. $400,000 cash on a new house, $90,000 on a new Mercedes, and get this: My dad asked either her and/or my uncles for $500 bucks to help pay some of the utilities because work is slow. Here’s where we enter the world of perspective.

My grandma, my uncles’ mom, aunt’s sister has been brain dead and dying in my living room for about four years. My uncles have “kinda” showed up to oversee her over the years; my aunts have practically never come to take care of their sister. My dad and step mom have taken the burden. My dad works as an iron worker, which means getting up at 4 in the morning to drive up to 2 or 3 hours away to a job site, and might get home around 9 or 10 before he has to go back again.

What assessment of my dad’s effort do his brothers and aunt have to give?

He’s a slug. (Their words.) “What the fuck are you doing with your money?” How can you expect me to pay for your living expenses…yada yada.

My uncles, who when they come over, are leaving the faucet running when they think it helps my grandma use the bathroom, do their laundry in my dad’s washer and drying, use the internet, watch the same ten programs on the history channel on cable…I just utterly hate everything about this situation.

Why have I played along? I wouldn’t mind a loan. I don’t dramatically need their money or anything, but I don’t want to live off of ramen noodles for the next year. Both my uncles have been primarily single their entire lives with better than average jobs and almost nothing to pay for beyond rent. My one uncle was living with my grandma until he was like 40 or something. I have realized that a couple hundred bucks a year a few cubs games aren’t worth not calling out the bullshit. But then again, I tend to have the balls to actually speak up.

It’s sick to get texts and calls from my dad who so endlessly believed in ideals about family only for them to be utterly shattered during times their true colors really show.

It’s peoples’ odd and sick games that are the reason things will never get better. It’s only one thing to know how to fix something. It’s only anther another to have the will to fight for change. At the end of the day, you will have someone literally one degree away who can fix practically any problem you could encounter, and they will still give you shit or deny you.

I hate wasting time. My stupid fucking hippie architect spending way more fucking time than I ever conceived getting these plans. My friends thinking college will last forever. What’s funny is how little that matters. I set a fucking goal. I will open a fucking coffee shop September 1^st, and regardless of what it costs me to build a kiosk or figure out my product, that’s what’s going to fucking happen. Who else feels so fucking powerful making a statement? Who else will make it come true?

I’ve had way too much on my mind lately. Do you think it’s funny or perhaps odd that I literally want to vomit with the degree and compulsions of my thoughts? I’ll go with odd because I’m never laughing when it happens haha.

It weirds me out to think that I have to live in spite of the world. That I would have to do things because you don’t believe in them instead of because they are the objectively correct and obvious things to do. It makes me uncomfortable. Granted, I’ll fucking live in spite. Fuck you and your ideas, especially if they are utterly shit ideas. But, I can’t help but feel a sense of loss or hopelessness because that’s what I have to resort to. Lol oh well I guess, fuck you. I suppose their’s a false duality or something here, but we’re speaking more to the feeling than the endless amount of labels we can ascribe to resolve feelings.

I’m nothing until I need to be. What the hell does that even mean? I don’t want to be a threat until you think I’m not one. I don’t want to be condescendingly right until you so hopelessly think I’m wrong. I sometimes if not semi-primarily don’t want to try until you think I won’t. This is fucking odd.

It’s ridiculously, if not almost and practically impossible to try and hold an objective position. I can never get overtly frustrated, or, I can never care that much, because I see and respect the end game. No, it’s not “death equates us all” for you despotic lazy mother fuckers. It’s localizing your priorities. I just don’t care about what you do. I can’t. I will never be able to be persuaded to. It’s hard to even conceive, outside of brainwashing, a scenario in which I would give a shit. And yes, this is vague, please feel free to comment or ask if you don’t get what I’m getting at. (Hint: general life philosophies, nomenclature, and method of being.)

I want a good reason to stop hating. I understand I’m capable of persuading and deceiving myself. I also grant how ridiculously happy a disposition I currently maintain and work to continue. Ideas?

I hope, I hope I hope, I so freaking utterly hope you understand what it means when I choose to be your friend. I literally need some reflection of the, ill-named, ideals I have about life reflected back at me. I need to be kept in check. I need to see what I’d like to believe about myself in the company I keep. My reality is a choice. I was born into a “family” but god for fucking bid be it that I’m constrained to that circumstance. I choose my shit. I work towards my shit. I’ll fight and defend what the fuck I actually come to respect.

I wanna be dramatic. I want to be loud. I want to be overcome by things I can’t put into words. I want to fight and I want to fucking scream. At the very least it’s exciting, and at the most, life altering. I’ll use my hatred. I’ll respect my happiness. I’ll die defiant and laughing.